


Biting the Truth in the Dark

by triggerlil



Series: Kinktober 2020 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Darkness, Dom Lavender Brown, Dom/sub, F/F, Foreplay, Instant Darkness Powder, Kissing, Lavender Brown Lives, Lingerie, Mention of sex toys, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Neck Kissing, Pre-Sex, Rain, Scars, Shame, Sub Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26777608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerlil/pseuds/triggerlil
Summary: Lavender Brown is dead to the wizarding world. Quite literally. She has disappeared off the map into a muggle apartment and never looked back, that is, except for Hermione Granger. One/third of the Golden Trio and Britain's youngest Minister for Magic, Hermione goes to Lavender when she's looking to de-stress from the pressure of being in charge, of filing papers,  making appearances, and being the brightest witch of her entire bloody generation.Lavender is fine with that. She just has one rule: they never fuck with the lights on.Oh, and no falling in love.
Relationships: Lavender Brown/Hermione Granger
Series: Kinktober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950223
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32
Collections: HP Kinktober 2020





	Biting the Truth in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to C for the quick beta! I love my girls and for some reason, everything I write with them lately turns out angsty, but I have hope for them yet. 
> 
> Written for Day 2 of HP Kinktober 2020: Instant Darkness Powder

Rain poured down, slicking asphalt and washing the stone steps of the church across the way. Lavender sat at the little wooden table in the main room, staring out of the large front windows, a cup of coffee steaming in front of her. Her gaze idly followed each car that drove past, watching the spray of rainwater off their wheels, listening to the sound of them coming and going, an occasional honk somewhere further down the street. 

A woman walked by under a red umbrella, practical black heels and plum suit the only vibrance in an otherwise drab day. Lavender stood up, examining the leaves of one of her aloe vera, while watching the woman from under her lashes—crossing the street from the church—and disappearing from view. 

Lavender’s mobile began to vibrate, loud against the table, and she glanced at the screen.

_ Here.  _

She put down her coffee, grabbing her keys from the table and sliding on a pair of slippers. She’d been a bit hesitant and a lot terrified when she’d moved into an apartment on a busy downtown, muggle street, but she’d settled in well, and now her place, and the local, felt like home. Among thousands of muggles she became a nameless wanderer, and she couldn’t turn away the privacy it afforded her, the ability to fall off the magical map like a dying star, exploding in red and fading away. 

The inside of her building was tired, scuffs on the walls and chips in the stairs, scratches on every door and dust behind each radiator, but she didn’t mind. It was worn down and marked, just like her. 

The smell of wet and rain was strong when she opened the glass door at the front, holding it open with her foot so she could reach for the larger, heavier door. 

“Hi,” she said. “Come in.” 

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled, closing her red umbrella and shaking it out before stepping inside, following Lavender through the hallway to her suite. 

“How’s work?” Lavender asked, locking the door behind them as Hermione wiped off her heels and fumbled out of them—remnants of a clumsy girl—stripping off her purple suit jacket to reveal the white blouse underneath, which had somehow gotten soaked in the brief moment when she’d closed her umbrella and stepped inside. 

“Fine, the usual really,” Hermione replied, as she raised her wand to spell herself dry. Lavender reached out, grabbing Hermione’s wrist. 

“Don’t,” she breathed. “I like it.” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, looking down at her blouse… and the fact that it had become quite see-through, her black lace bra on stark display. A blush crept up her cheeks, and Lavender gently grabbed Hermione’s hips, turning them around so she could push Hermione up against the door. 

Lavender leaned forward, nuzzling Hermione’s neck, inhaling the scent of rain, the last remnants of floral perfume, and a library. “Do you even know what you do to me?” Lavender asked, unbuttoning Hermione’s blouse and nipping at her shoulder blades. Hermione used one hand to steer Lavender’s face, bringing their lips together. Hermione was so soft, everything about her made Lavender want to melt. She swiped her tongue across Hermione’s lower lip, tasting her, and Lavender leaned in until they were flush together, deepening the kiss.

Hermione moaned as Lavender snuck one hand between them to fully undo the blouse, kneading Hermione’s hips and nudging her legs apart. In return, Hermione’s hand went under Lavender’s jumper, trailing upwards. 

“I only have two hours today,” Hermione panted, pulling away briefly. “Meeting with the Head Auror.” Her mouth twisted as she said it, obviously not keen on cutting today short. 

“So busy Minister,” Lavender whispered, biting at Hermione’s ear lobe. “I’m surprised you make time for me at all.” She hoped that hadn’t come out more bitter than she intended. “I suppose we should take it to the bedroom then?” 

Hermione nodded, following Lavender into her tiny bedroom, big enough only for her bed, dresser, side table, and a trunk for… other things. 

Hermione pulled off her blouse entirely, letting it drop to the floor, and Lavender sucked in a breath, reaching down to unbutton the purple trousers. 

“Can I take them off?” 

Hermione nodded, gaze darkening, and Lavender pushed them down her hips, black lace underwear slipping with them, dark pubes peeking out over the top. Lavender brought her hands up just so she could trail them back down, from the sides of Hermione’s breasts, over her waist and hips, to run a finger through the strip of hair, smiling when Hermione shivered. 

“Get on the bed,” Lavender ordered. “Arse up, face down.” 

If they didn’t have much time, she was going to use it as best she could. Hermione complied quickly—as if she had been waiting for this moment—pushing her cheek into the mattress, bushy hair fawning out across the white sheets. Having Britain’s Minister for Magic displaying herself so obscenely for Lavender, plump arse clad in the skimpy lingerie that Lavender had instructed her to wear, had wetness instantly spreading through her own pink knickers. 

Lavender opened the trunk she kept at the foot of her bed and chewed on her lip. She took out the pink strap on she favoured, a black leather collar, and a tiny glass jar with a closed eye etched onto the lid. 

Lavender put the strap on and jar aside for the moment and walked around the bed, sitting on the edge and running a hand through Hermione’s hair. “You look gorgeous like this, arse up and obviously begging to be fucked.” 

Hermione whimpered, eyes pleading. God, she looked gorgeous.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Hermione?” 

Hermione bit her lip. “Yes.” 

Lavender reached around and slid the collar under Hermione’s neck, fastening it and hooking a finger through the silver loop on the front. “You look ravishing.” 

“Thank you,” Hermione breathed. 

“No bitch at the Ministry would treat you as good as I do, would they?” Lavender whispered, a hard edge to her voice. “No one fucks you like I do, do they?” 

“No one does, I only want to be fucked by you.” Hermione looked into Lavender’s eyes, gaze exploring her face. “ I can only be fucked by you.” 

“Exactly.” Lavender smiled, stroking Hermione’s cheek, running a hand down Hermione’s spine, grabbing onto the curve of Hermione’s arse and digging her nails in. The woman squirmed, wiggling, and Lavender pulled back, giving Hermione a hard but playful spank. 

“Soon,” she said, going over to her bedroom window and pulling down her blinds. A sliver of light still escaped through the sides, everything in the room dimly visible.

This was where Lavender’s jar came in. She unscrewed the lid, taking a pinch of the powder inside. 

“Are you ready?” She asked, watching Hermione intently. “Remember, red, yellow, green.” 

Hermione took a deep breath, as if steadying herself, and curled her toes. “Ready.” 

Lavender flung the powder forward and the room was swallowed by darkness. She stepped forward, putting a hand on Hermione’s arse once more and squeezing. 

“I’m here,” Lavender murmured. “Red, yellow, or green?”

“Green.” 

Lavender was almost losing count of how many times Hermione had come over when she could escape from duties as Minister for a shag and the chance to properly destress. Lavender was always there, always waiting, for a chance to feel this woman writhe underneath her, to have the casual intimacy that she didn’t allow herself with anyone else. 

But every time, she had to check, she had to be sure that Hermione still wanted this. 

You never knew when someone might become scared of the dark. 

Finally, she began to strip, pulling her jumper over her head and pushing off her jeans, throwing her knickers and bra to the side. She ran a hand up her stomach and closed her eyes. 

This was not the classic Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder that Fred and George had supplied during the Second Wizarding War. This was a variant that she had specifically commissioned, the last wizarding item she’d bought before disappearing without a single word: a powder which only the caster could see through. 

Lavender didn’t trust blindfolds and she didn’t trust curtains. She didn’t trust the normal darkness of night to hide the puckered scar tissue that criss crossed her thighs and ran up and down her torso. She couldn’t help that Hermione saw the scar that travelled from her right eye down to her lip, but this was something she could control, and she refused to have every ugly part of her on display for someone who didn’t love her. 

Because Hermione didn’t love her.

Or at least that was what Lavender thought. 


End file.
